Ghost Walker
by Eternal Dreamer's Stories
Summary: Her parents always expected her to be a little better than she was, but what she turned into was what they called 'schizophremic'... Then there came Professor Xavier, naming her differently: a mutant. Rating T just in case.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own X-Men: Evolution or Professor Xavier, only Eleonore.

Good morning, Everyone. My name is Eleonore Jolaine Wright and this is my story.

I used to be an avarange young female by the means I was taught. My parents wanted me to turn a little more clever, pretty and talented than other girls my age. I was trying the best I could - payed attention to my tutors, read science books, listened and played classical music since I was five. But no matter how hard I tried, for them it was always just 'good enough'. I was _smart enough_, I was _pretty enough_, and I was _talented enough._ I can't recall a single time they praised me for being any better.

For a while it made me motivated to try a little harder, to push myself a little further, but as soon as I realized that for them I would always be stuck in 'good enough' category, my strenght began to abondon me, and I slowly allowed myself to sink into what I cherished the most. Books.

Wonderful place where anything can happen, a place with no limitations, where there's always room for dreams - something I lacked in my life these past seventeen years. My parents soon noticed that my grades are lowering and I'm withdrawing from the life they set for me. But the real problem began after they caught me sneeking out to the Liblary in late evening. I remember staning in front of them in the dim living room, as they stared at me with cold eyes and somehow managed to shape their disappointment in words so capably that the sound of it made me feel like I was the worst daughter in the world.

What happened after that pushed my personality a completely different path then they aimed for. I was closed up in the mansion, was allowed to leave my room only under strict rules, that didn't really allow me to do it at time different than dinner. Books - they took them all alway, and the only way I was able to read was when maid Marie brought me some, and for that I am grateful since I realize the danger it would set upon her if she was caught. Breakfast and lunch was something delivered straight to my room, so I won't sneak out on my way to dining room. I was living in a prison worth a queen, but prison unquestionably.

Everything that was happening back then and the following events are a long story, and there is a lot more to learn about it, but this is the past. One that for now is left behind, and though I wonder if it will catch up with me sometime, for now I'm letting go. Now everything has changed. Even I. Look at me now - my once blonde hair are now turned dark grey, my peach skin I treated so carefully is so pale, like as if no blood was left to run in my veins. Only the eyes, they remained their intense cristal blue color, after my mother. My mother who's left behind.

I sat quietly, straight, with hands in my laps, and listened carefully as I was taught. The men who spoke to me, Professor Charles Xavier, acted like many quests of my parents that I met. He talked calmly, but made impression of a person who knows exactly what he's talking about. Smooth, like as if he have done it a thousand times. However, if he have had already conversations similiar to ours, I can only wonder what an interesting life he had led.

"So when did you hear the voice for the first time?" he asked. What was different about him was that he was probably the first person who talked to me about it without acting uncomfortably nor modulating their voice like as if they were facing a child suffering psychical disease. Perhaps I do? This is what was killing my parents to admit - that I might be insane. It wasn't something they would want they daughter to be. They would settle only for nothing less than perfection.

I let my thoughts drift back to the moment this voice he mentioned first echoed in my mind. "When my parents locked me down in a kitchen, in undergrounds of our mansion" I told him.

His face was still, he didn't appear to find anything suspicious about my statement. "Why would they do that?" he asked, connecting fingertips of his pales a few inches below his jaw.

I'm not leaving his eyes, knowing it's rude to look away when one's expecting your answer, but a part of my mind captures his person. He's wearing a simple brown suit, that makes him look distant, yet casual within those walls. His mansion, the Institute he owned, was balancing perfectly between good taste in past and extraordinary modern style. Much less overdosed place than my old house, and he seemed just the same. It felt somewhat comfortable to sit there, in his office, on the red sofa, surrounded by so many... books. The big window was letting in just enough light to make the place seem cosy, warm, but expensive at the same time.

I didn't want to rudely make the Professor wait for my responce. "They were afraid I would escape through a window if I had one, and the kitchen was the only room around the possession that had non. Every time they caught me trying to run away they'd lock me there until I learn my lesson." Only after I was done I realized my gaze fell to hands in my laps, and I didn't even notice doing that. Maybe those events took something of me, that I didn't allow myself to notice. I looked back at the man, but he didn't seem offended by my behaviour.

"It must have been a lot of stress for you. From then on it was happening constantly, am I right?" he asked, sounding as if he already knew.

I made a single nod. "Yes, it was. But in time there was more to that."

"I'm listening."

I inhaled, fighting with myself for a good way to name the experiences I've been through. It sounded so innocent and foolish once I spoke about it to anyone, but at the moment in time when I was inside of all this, it felt like scenes pulled out from the most terryfying horror books.

"There were also images flashing in front of my eyes, other sounds, lights, darks, and sometimes I could see people, when everybody else could not" I explained. Funny, how casually I sound now, when I speak about all of this, but a few months ago I was all freaked out and dramatic. I thought I was going insane, but now... I'm used to it. I'm used to these voices, those figures in my room, the man staring at my family while we're eating dinner. If acceptation for your disease means your insanity reached its top, then quess I'm there.

Usually at this point of my story people look at me with worry, confusion, pity or even fear, yet the Professor only noded with understanding and asked another question: "And when was it that your hair began to turn grey?"

I took only a mare two seconds before answering fluently to that question. "Three months after I heard the first voice."

Maybe that wasn't the best way to associate it, nobody had ever believed that these two events may have something in common. My parents began to look for doctors of two different kinds - those who would find a reason for my mental disease, and those who would heal my body.

"It's connected" the man said, like as if he wanted to get rid of my doubt after reading my thoughts.

Ah. Right. He did.

"I'm sorry, Eleonore, but your mind is screaming for answers, it'd be difficult not to hear it" the bald man smiled apologenticaly.

I was surprised to hear that. I knew I wanted answers to the questions that bottled up in me for these past months, but I didn't expect it was so evident to sneak out of my mind without control. Now that we mention it, maybe it all really has touched me more than I ever knew. But I was taught to keep my feelings in my very control and never let them get to the voice.

"As you already know, there are people in possession of unique gifts, or as they usually call them, powers. These powers usually manifest in three cases: during adolescence, under stress, or they are born with these." he explained. "This is caused by mutation in our DNA that results in having an addictional gen named Gen X. It seemed like your mutation results also in having your hair lose their colour pigment. This is absolutely normal, all this treatment your parents provide you is unnecessary."

"But they want their daughter to be perfect" I said before thinking about it. I'm loosing the cold blood since all this started.

"Mutation is not a disease" Professor shook his head lightly. "Scientifically speaking, it might even beanother step in humankind's evolution. I've created this place to gather teenagers just like you, whose families have issues admiting it, who have trouble accepting themselves, or who just need to learn how to gain control of their powers so they won't pose a threat to either themselves or their surroundings. Here they learn how to make a good use of their gifts."

I swallowed quietly. "What is my gift then? It feels like schizophremia."

"I see why you're assuming that" the man agreed. "But changes in your body seems evidences of it being a mutation. Some kind of necromantism I suppose. We can proceed with understanding the nature of it, if only you're willing to."

I took a shallow breath and noded. "Yes, Professor, I would be very greatful."

Whenever I think I've got it figured out, everything seems suddenly complicated again. At first there were only voices, I tried to ignore them. But then images and people came, and though I thought I could ignore that too, soon I stopped being able to tell difference between what is only an illussion, and what actually can hurt me. It was driving me crazy. If there is anyone who can help me put it all together, and stop it form happening, then I'm more than willing to cooperate.

"Therefore I would like to welcome you at my school" the man smiled.

Slightly, I smiled back.

**If you want to see more with Eleonore AKA Ghost Walker, let me know, and feel more than welcomed to give ideas about what should happen, who should she stick with, maybe romance with, or who should she be enemies with. She's a girl from rich family, raised with rules, so keep it in mind while coming up with ideas ;3 **

**Till next time!**


End file.
